Cinder
by RunOn
Summary: A secret meeting. A clandestine friendship. A choice. Cinderella!Everlark with Katniss as the Princess, and Peeta as the disinherited son-turned-servant, and Haymitch Abernathy as the Fairy Godmother.


_A/N: I own nothing, I just like to play with other people's toys._

 **Cinder**

 _12 years old_

Twelve year old Princess Katniss was finally in her element. Surrounded by the clean smell of the forest and slightly damp earth she was at peace. With her bow and arrows over her shoulder she felt in control in a way she never felt in the palace. She still had her freedom, now, but someday, it would be a thing of the past. How could she, once a queen, be free to hunt, alone, in the forest. Even now she should not technically be alone, but she could manage it. As she approached womanhood and must entertain suitors she would also be under heavier supervision. Just the mere thought of it was suffocating, she couldn't imagine having to actually live it. But for now it was just her and the forest.

Today she rode further into the woods than usual. She tied her horse, Tribute, in a glade with plenty of fresh grass and a small spring for fresh water. His heavy hoof-falls scared away game. She moved deeper into the forest where she could hunt.

Katniss sat perched on a boulder in a clearing and waited. In a half hour the forest came alive around her with bird calls, fluttering foul, chittering squirrels, and shy rabbits. After the passage of another hour she had a brace of conies, a pheasant, and a squirrel shot expertly through the eye. Then she heard a new sound and she froze. Heavy foot falls, shuffling, silence. More footfalls, shuffling, then silence. They were coming closer.

Katniss was peeved. This was her spot and the stranger was scaring away the game. She was preparing to move off to a new location and avoid this annoying interloper when another sound grew. A thumping of small hoofbeats. It was closing in fast. A boy's shout. Then fast heavy footfalls moved in her direction followed by the creature belonging to the small hoofbeats. A boar, Katniss concluded and swiftly moved to action. Boars were violent, wild, deadly. And fast. She nocked an arrow and braced herself, the stranger broke through into the clearing where her boulder sat. In a flash, her quick hunter's eyes took in his servant's garb, his broad, stocky form, his rumpled blond curls and startling blue eyes, wide with terror. He knew what followed him and the danger. He pulled up short at the sight of her arrow aimed at him.

"Right!" she called out, and he immediately diverted his course the direction indicated.

Moments later the boar burst into the clearing and Katniss let fly the first shot into its snout. The boar stumbled. Katniss swiftly nocked and released a second arrow that went right through its eye. The felled boar skidded to a stop three feet from her.

The boy looked at her in awe. "Wow!" he breathed. "That was amazing!" He gulped. "You saved my life. Thank you." He was bent at the waist still panting trying to catch his breath.

Katniss turned to look at him. "You're welcome...What is your name?"

"Cinder, Miss." Then he flushed with embarrassment, "Well, actually, it's Peeta, Miss, though hardly anyone ever calls me that anymore," he finished quietly.

"Well, Peeta, what were you doing out here?" Katniss demanded. How had this boy gotten so deep into the forest and attracted a boar and nearly gotten himself maimed or killed?

"Collecting mushrooms!" The boy smiled brightly holding up his foraging bag, clearly weighted with his bounty. He held one up, "They look like tiny fairy umbrellas," he said thoughtfully, "You could almost imagine one taking shelter from the rain..." his words drifted off as though he was speaking mostly to himself. He became aware of Katniss presence again, and cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, Miss. I've already been gone for too long and must get back, but...uh...is there anything that I could do to maybe repay you, you know, for saving my life like that?"

Katniss shook her head no, "No, but I would recommend you try to learn to walk quieter so you don't attract any unwanted attention in these woods." _Or chase away my game_.

"Yes, Miss," the boy replied deferentially.

"And what do you say we split the boar? I can't carry all this back myself, and if you take half, it would explain your delay?"

The boy nodded eagerly.

"Do you know how to clean a kill?"

"Yes, Miss, I butcher the pigs and chickens at home. I'm quite handy with a knife," the boy replied without a trace of arrogance.

They set to work and in no time had the boar gutted, cleaned, and separated into two parcels. Katniss who was prepared to carry meat just slid the cuts into her game bag. The boy, however, wanting to protect his mushrooms, took off his tunic to wrap the meat and keep it separate from them, leaving him in just a simple shift.

"Thank you again Miss..." The boy seemed to be fishing for a name.

"Kat," Katniss supplied.

"Kat," he repeated it. "Thank you Kat. For saving my life and for the meat." He gave her a wide smile and his blue eyes twinkled.

"You're welcome, Peeta," she said, returning his smile. Then shifting her weight between her feet she sighed, "Well, I must go..." gesturing the way she had come.

"Me too," said Peeta.

She turned and hefting her game bag jogged off to retrieve her horse and head back for the castle.

She stole glances back to see the poor boy, sans tunic, which he had used to wrap the boar meat. She smiled shyly to herself. Soon she was at the clearing where her horse stood patiently waiting. After ensuring the horse was well, she mounted and rode for home.

Peeta hefted his forage bag. He too stole glances back at the mysterious hunter-girl. And when he could no longer see her, he ran for home as fast as his legs could carry him. He had been gone for a long time and the boar incident lengthened the time even more. He had hoped the boar meat would appease his mistress slash step-mother, but he was likely to get a beating either way. But it was worth it to have met _her_.

He ran red-faced and breathless into the kitchen, and sure enough _she_ was there, all icy eyes, hard features, and tapping foot. He was going to get it for sure this time. "I'm sorry!" was already falling from his lips along with, "I have gotten boar's meat," and he held his bag out for inspection. His mistress slash step-mother wrinkled her nose in disgust not at all interested in his fare. "And mushrooms," he added.

"You're late," was her definitive response.

"I know my lady. I lost track of time while foraging for mushrooms. I am sorry. I was then chased by a boar, but he was killed and now I have meat."

She scoffed. "You didn't kill it. You have no weapons. How came you to kill the boar and bring the meat?"

Peeta, was usually quick on his feet, but now he was flustered, it would only be worse if he told his step-mom he had been saved by a girl. _He_ didn't mind. She was amazing, but his step-mom would add it to her already well-filled armory of insults that she hurled at him.

"A...A hunter killed the boar and could not carry all of the meat and offered me some."

"Why would he give you any? You're just a servant!"

"I do not know why he shared with me my lady. I was sure you'd be pleased with the meat. Perhaps he did it more for you than for me, knowing my mistress would benefit by the meat and I am only returning it home to prepare it for her."

The flattery softened the step-mother's countenance, believing the meat was _for her_ and not _for him_ made perfect sense. Still, he was late and must be punished. He was sent to the shed to be dealt with.

That night, Peeta lay on his side next to the fire in the kitchen, his back too sore to lay on, drawing in the ash with a stiff piece of straw. Just as she had regarded him with the quick eyes of a huntress, he regarded her with the eyes of an artist, taking in every detail with shy swift glances. He had been cured of staring by his step-mother. Long looks signaled to her the artist in him was thinking, and that would earn him more beatings, so he kept it hidden. Though he continued stealing glances through his long curly bangs. He sighed, then winced as he rolled onto his back without thinking.

In the quiet he finally went over the strange encounter in the woods. The girl was dressed as a hunter, but her clothes were good material, well-cut, and expertly tailored. She must come from some well-off family. Was her father a hunter for a wealthy family and had taught her? Did she have brothers? Why was no one with her in the woods? It was highly irregular for a girl to be in the woods alone, though she was safer than he was, being able to fell a boar in two shots like that. He was in awe of her.

Katniss similarly was late getting home, but rather than harsh words and a beating for her trouble, she was received into loving arms, her boar meat was thoroughly enjoyed. However, she kept her secret friend to herself. She didn't know how her parents would react to her befriending a servant of another household. He was _good_. And she treasured him in her heart.

 _14 years old_

The time passed and twelve year old gangly Princess Katniss was now fourteen budding into womanhood and the boy Peeta had grown taller, but was still a bit awkward.

Katniss went hunting as often as she could, but her trips were becoming less and less frequent as she must more and more be a lady and leave childish things behind. She would sometimes visit the boulder she had sat on years ago and hope that maybe her boy would find her. Just after her thirteenth birthday she returned to see a bouquet of dried wildflowers she was confused. Where had they come from? Who had brought them? They were all brown and dried and brittle now, but she could imagine their beauty that they must have had at one time.

In the fall of her thirteenth year she found a little acorn family. She giggled. They were the large acorns of a big old oak tree and little faces had been carved into them. They were adorable. She put them in her bag and kept them in her special bin of treasures at home, along with a few of the dried flowers from before.

In the winter it was a holly branch with waxy green leaves and bright red berries.

In spring, she found, to her shock, fresh golden dandelions. She must have just missed him. She dared to call his name, knowing full well she'd scare off all the game, but there was no answer. Katniss kept these with all her other treasures, sometimes a smooth river stone, sometimes a figure carved from wood, sometimes a beautiful bird's feather. Peeta was _good_.

Finally in late spring, she was at her boulder, already with two kills, when the heavy footfalls came through the woods. She immediately recognized the owner of the footsteps. He still walked like a rock. The gold of his hair flashed through the trees along with something colorful. She hopped down, nocked an arrow, and waited.

He came into the clearing and looking up, startled, "Whoa!" he said. "What?"

"Right!" she called.

He moved immediately.

She made as if to scan the forest the way he had come.

"What are you doing?" he asked, panting from the fright she had given him.

"Looking for a boar," she answered easily. "The last one was quite tasty, I thought you might have brought me another."

He chuckled, "No, not this time."

She turned to face him taking in his form. He had grown, was clearly strong, and held a riotous bouquet of flowers.

"For a lady-friend?" she gestured to the bouquet. She had imagined he was the bringer of gifts, and hoped they were for her. But what if, what if all this time it hadn't been meant for her. The thought made her chest tight and it was hard to breathe.

"Yes," the boy replied shyly. "I met a girl here, once. I leave her gifts from time to time."

"Oh," replied Katniss. He had met her here once. It _was_ her right? Not some other girl?

"When the gifts disappeared I hoped she'd gotten them, but sometimes I was afraid that other people would find them and take them or animals would carry them off." He frowned at the thought.

" _I_ found them," she answered, breathless.

"Did you like them Kat? I know they weren't much, but they were all I had. I wanted...I hoped you'd know I remembered you and thought about you."

"I did," she smiled. "I saved every last one, at least of the ones I found."

Peeta beamed. "Oh I am so glad!"

"In fact, I think we _just_ missed each other a couple months ago. The dandelions were fresh. I called to you, but I must have been too late."

Peeta frowned and his countenance fell. "I heard you, but I didn't believe it was real. So many times I hoped to see you again, like right now, but I didn't believe it would happen. Oh! I wish I would have run back just to see. I am so sorry, Kat!" he said. _Stupid stupid boy._ He chided himself.

"I have brought _you_ something," Katniss shared.

Peeta's eyebrows shot up, "Really?" He could not hide his curiosity.

"Yes, I couldn't leave it for you because it would spoil, but every time I came here, I packed an extra lunch," she opened a flap on a small satchel separate from her game bag. "Will you eat with me?"

"Yes!" Peeta breathed. There was nothing in the world he'd rather do at this moment that share some food and stolen moments with the girl who had been on his mind these past two years. He moved to the boulder and she joined him and they sat together, sharing a meal of bread, cheese, dried meat, and dried grapes.

They didn't talk much. The silence, rather than being awkward was companionable and peaceful. Neither had much peace at home. This was a respite for both of them.

Finally, Peeta nearly finished with his roll said to Katniss, "You know, if you put the cheese in the bread before you bake it, it is sooo good! You should try it when you get home. See if the cook will do it for you." He was still operating under the assumption that she was a huntress for a wealthy noble.

Katniss moaned at the thought, "Oh my goodness that does sound good!"

At fourteen his thoughts of the strange hunter-girl were a little different than that of his twelve year old boyish self. He wanted to touch her hair, the smooth silken strands, to let the dark locks slip through his pale hands. Then he regarded her well made, high quality clothing and was aware of his own simple, old garments and flushed with shame. He was not born a servant, but was still a servant in his own household. If his father hadn't died, he might have had a chance. His father could have discovered her household and he could have courted her in time. But not now. There was no one to recommend him. It didn't help that her task was obviously to hunt, but his was to cook, to clean, and tend the garden. Women's work. What would a wild huntress want with such a boy. But she enjoyed his gifts and shared a lunch with him. He could be happy with that.

She saw the sadness reflected in his eyes and asked, "You seem very far away."

He shook his head to dispel his melancholy thoughts, smiled sadly and said, "I was just missing my father. It's been several years since he died, but I still miss him. I'm okay, though. Don't worry about it."

Katniss wasn't sure about that, but she didn't want to pry into this stranger's business. Lunch was finished and they each had to return to their respective homes.

"Thank you Kat," Peeta said. Her name was like a sigh upon his lips; it made her heart flutter.

"You're welcome, Peeta," she said, "and thank you for the gifts. I treasure each and every one."

Peeta turned pink at her admission, "You're welcome." Then he sighed, "I wish I could stay here with you, but I have to go, or I will be missed."

"Me too."

"Goodbye, Kat."

"Goodbye, Peeta."

Again they stalked away through the woods to their respective homes. Katniss to court, and dresses, and manners, and Peeta to hard work, harsh words, and occasional beatings. But he never forgot the beautiful huntress, now with small curves to add to his memory of her. And she never forgot the handsome _good_ servant who gave her gifts, or the way his voice now cracked.

It would be two years and many gifts later before they met again.

 _16 Years Old_

At sixteen Katniss was now more woman than girl. She was a beauty with her steel eyes, raven hair, and olive skin. It would not be long before suitors would come, but she still had time. Her free time was becoming increasingly occupied with lessons in court manners, ladylike behavior, dealing with matters of state, etc, etc, etc. But finally one fall afternoon she made it not only to the woods, but out to her boulder. _Their_ boulder. The gifts were there as usual. She was so glad. But she was sad, too, as it was clear he had been there several times. She hoped her absence hadn't discouraged her friend. But sadly, it would be inevitable. She must marry into some noble or royal family and he was only a servant and would marry a servant girl. They must eventually put these childish things behind them. But for now he would bring gifts and she would treasure them like always.

And again she heard his feet. This time though, she wouldn't tease him, she didn't want to lose precious time to him being frightened out of his wits and flustered. She called, "Peeta? Peeta!" her voice ringing melodically through the forest, and he answered cautious, but barely containing his joy, "Kat? Kat! Is it you?"

Sixteen year old Peeta ran into the clearing bearing a gift of fall flowers and a satchel. He came close and opened his arms to Kat, hoping she'd take the invitation. Katniss wasn't used to being touched by anyone not of her family, but she walked right into his arms. He was warm, and strong, and felt so good and safe. He smelled of the kitchen fire, and bread, and sweat from walking in the woods, and something that was just quintessentially _him_.

He just about fell over when she walked into his arms, he was so ready to be rejected. He hadn't been touched affectionately since his dad died and he was thrilled when Kat held him back.

"You haven't been here in a while," he said softly.

"I'm here now," she said. "I brought us lunch."

"I brought something too," she could hear the smile in his voice. He broke away and gave her the flowers, then reached in his satchel, where he produced golden rolls. She held one and sniffed it, breaking it open.

"A cheese roll!" she exclaimed. He smiled proudly, she seemed to like his offering. He carried them with him every time he went to the rock in the hopes he'd see her.

She produced the lunch she had packed, also with cheese rolls, some meat, apples, and cheese. When she bit into Peeta's cheese roll, her eyes rolled up in her head and she moaned, "Oh my goodness these are so good! I thought my cook made good ones, but these, these are amazing Peeta!"

He flushed proud and a little embarrassed. The moaning was getting to him and she was going to have to stop or he'd be really embarrassed. He chuckled softly, "I'm glad you like them," and he drew his knees up and rested his elbows on them.

They passed a companionable lunch as usual, as "usual" as it could be in that this was only their third meeting. But they felt more like old friends than like the strangers they should be. They talked about their lives, Katniss careful and guarded to not let on her real position, it was nice to be liked for just herself rather than her position as Princess. Although it was not lost on Peeta she had let slip, "my cook" not "the cook" meaning she was no mere huntress or daughter of a hunter. But he didn't let himself focus on that. Instead he stayed in the moment, sharing lunch, with a beautiful girl, no, _young woman_ , here in the forest, on a boulder, just talking.

She shared about her studies, he about his growing garden and farm. She shared a funny story about her sister's cat. He shared about his middle brother's antics and getting in trouble with the ladies. She shared about her horse. He shared the love of reading passed on to him by his father. She shared that she loved food. He shared that he loved to cook food. He did not share that he often did not get to partake much of the good things he made, but was left with stale bread and leftover scraps. Secreting out the rolls for Kat was a special case. She shared that her father had taught her to hunt. He had surmised as much. He shared it was his father who taught him to cook. They joked and laughed. He learned she loved green because it reminded her of the forest and she learned he loved the watercolor orange of the sky at sunset. It made her heart ache to imagine this servant boy stopping at the end of a day of long work, and rather than bowing his back in exhaustion to look at the ground, he looked up and enjoyed the beauty of the sky. She imagined a whole world locked inside of him. She wanted to get to know it, but it could never be, a princess and a servant.

They finished their meal, and had to put an end to a conversation that seemed as though it could be endless if they let it, and separate each to their own homes. She to a palace, and finery, and tutors and he to fires, and livestock, and the kitchen.

Peeta grew increasingly dismayed as the gifts piled up on "their" boulder. But he persisted in bringing them. The huntress may yet return and her gifts would all be there, the dried flowers, the carvings, the beautiful stones, the woven leather bracelet (wrapped in oil cloth to protect it from the elements) and a small sketch of the beautiful huntress (also wrapped in oil cloth to protect it). Then after almost six months, the gifts disappeared. He hoped it was _her_.

Then Peeta wanted to get her another gift. Something more than foraging and fireside carving could produce. He'd have to keep it a secret from step-mother because she'd take everything. So one day, while selling fall vegetables at market, he approached the man Haymitch. He was a drunkard to be sure, but he was shrewd, and had some money to his name. It was rumored he was the son of a noble, but life and circumstances had been hard on him. Peeta needed an ally, and this paunchy old man seemed like his only option.

"I need your help." Peeta began after catching the man's attention.

"What for, boy?" Haymitch answered gruffly.

"I...I want to sell something, but I don't want my step-mother to know about it. Can you sell it for me?" Peeta queried.

"What's in it for me?"

"A cut of the profits," Peeta answered quickly. "You sell it and I'll give you your cut."

"What am I selling?"

Peeta gulped, "Art," his answer more of a question than a statement.

"Art?" Haymitch sounded incredulous.

Peeta pulled a rolled up canvas from his bag. Haymitch unrolled the canvas and looked at it, and his eyes widened with surprise then narrowed in suspicion. "You...You didn't steal this did you?"

"No sir. I made it." Peeta answered honestly.

"Alright, I'll do it." Haymitch agreed, "Got anymore?"

"No, I thought that once this one sold, I could get the supplies to make more. I had to get things from around the house to make this one."

And so Peeta did not bring gifts to the rock, because he was working hard on the biggest gift yet. He painted, Haymitch sold, and little by little he gained the coins he needed. He kept the stash in loose stones on the kitchen floor, knowing no one in the household would venture in there anyway.

He knew he'd never be worthy of the hunter-girl, but he wanted to give her one final gift that showed how much he cared for her and how much she had meant to him all these years, how much comfort their sporadic friendship gave him, and how her memories kept him company by the fire.

Katniss noticed the gifts stopped coming. She was disappointed, but at the same time her boy was growing up like herself and it was time for him to find a proper servant girl to court. Still, she couldn't help checking the rock anytime she could venture deep into the woods on her own.

 _18 Years Old_

It took a long time. Longer than Peeta imagined, but he had finally done it, with Haymitch's help. It was market day in early spring and business at his stall had died down and he was now at a booth looking at rings and necklaces and jewels and pearls. He had thought all along he'd get a ring with a precious gem stone, but as he looked at the glittery, sparkly things, they weren't right for his huntress. But the opal set in a silver ring, smooth, iridescent, like a drop of moonlight, over looked in favor of other more obvious gems seemed like a good choice. The more he thought about it the more he realized the hunter-girl didn't appear to wear much jewelry, and she might not wish to wear a piece of jewelry from him. His treasures had always been secret gifts she kept in a special box of treasures at home. He kept looking. Then he saw a black pearl. It was dark, beautiful, solitary, like his huntress. It suited her and their clandestine relationship perfectly. He selected the pearl. Then told Haymitch who concluded the sale. A servant boy having the means to purchase such an expensive thing was not only unheard of, it was suspicious, and would raise unwanted attention at best, or lead to possible incarceration at worst, because they would assume he stole the sum of money. Haymitch brought him the pearl and Peeta secreted it in his pocket.

He and Haymitch had become friends over the passing year and a half as Haymitch sold the paintings, claiming to be a "benefactor" of a young artist. Peeta had been so busy that his ventures to the woods were short and never far enough to get to the rock. He feared what the hunter-girl would think, that he had forgotten her, but that wasn't true at all, he thought of her more than ever before, with every painting completed and every coin added to his stash, and now with the precious pearl in his pocket.

Now that he had the pearl, he got up early and finished his chores quickly to get as many chances to get to the boulder as possible. This gift, _this gift_ was one to be given in person. He also had the cheese rolls in his satchel. He'd sit on the boulder for about an hour under the noon sun, hoping that she'd come, but he left each time disappointed, but not without hope.

On a warm day in mid-spring, he got up early again, prepared the cheese rolls again, and set out for the boulder again. As he neared, he heard his name, his real name, called to him by the most beautiful voice in the world. Only Haymitch called him by his real name, and his voice was nothing near beautiful. He called back to her, "Kat! Kat!" His feet picked up their pace till he was jogging, running, and at a full out sprint. He burst through to the clearing and pulled up short. There she was, a woman now. Gone were the shy boy and hunter girl replaced now by the man and woman who stood in the clearing.

He was jubilant, but she was sad. Immediately his own countenance fell. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"You...you came," she was near tears.

He closed the distance between them and opened his arms as he had before, this time desperate to hold her.

And she walked right up to him. She felt all the strength and firmness of his muscles, heard the pounding of his heart, and looked up at him. He felt all the softness of her feminine body, but still lithe and strong with muscles developed through hunting and riding.

"I never thought I'd see you again." she said.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get back for a long time, Kat," her name still a sigh upon his lips.

"You didn't leave any gifts..." Katniss said softly. She was a Princess and had all she needed, she didn't want to sound greedy, but his gifts weren't about _things_ , but that he thought of her and missed her. The lack of gifts made her fear he had forgotten her.

He was sorry to have caused her any sadness, but a little glad that she missed him and his gifts.

"I was trying to get you a special gift. It took a long time. But I've been coming here oftener than ever because...because I needed to give it to you in person. It wasn't the kind of gift you leave on a rock."

Katniss eyes looked up to him in curiosity. He broke away from the hug, reached in his pocket and pulled out the pearl he had worked so hard for. He held it out to her. "For you." She took it and examined it, so smooth and cool against her skin.

"Thank you," she breathed, "it's beautiful!"

"I would have brought you more flowers, but they aren't in full bloom, yet." Peeta said.

"That's okay, this pearl...it's amazing," she replied looking up at him. Then sadness clouded her eyes again. "I will be eighteen soon, and then my parents will begin to seriously pursue suitors and I will have to spend a lot of time with them and visiting other ladies and travelling," she bit her lip, it was so hard for her to continue, "I won't be able to come here anymore."

It was Peeta's turn to be sad, but he was glad they had this one last meeting. That he had made it just in time to give a final gift, the best gift of all.

She had packed lunch as always, and he had the cheese rolls he made fresh that morning. Again they passed a lunch that was a perfect blend of companionable silence and conversation. They finished and sat on the cool green grass and she lay her head in his lap. He was surprised at first, but accepted it. Then, in a bold move, he removed the tie at the base of her braid, and began to unravel it and let the silken locks slip through his fingers. He had dreamt of it many a night (well that and _other things_ , but they would be indecent). He twirled and braided the hair and just sat, enjoying what he knew would be their last meeting. She dozed in his lap and he drank in her scent, her sleeping form, her soft breathing. He absorbed all he could of this moment so he could treasure it in his heart forever.

Finally, she woke and it was time she made her way back home. He had guessed she was the daughter of some noble. He would never be a suitor for such a fine girl, but they had been friends. They each made to leave the clearing, but he turned back, "Kat!" he called.

She turned.

"I...I just want to say that...your friendship, it has meant so much to me." His eyes shimmered with the beginnings of tears.

"And yours to me." Katniss answered.

Then, Peeta, emboldened, knowing this may be the last time he'd ever see or talk to her, decided to say _all_ that was on his heart, but time was short. "I love you!" he blurted then flushed in embarrassment. Not embarrassed of loving her, but of how he'd said it. It didn't come out at all like he'd wanted.

Then, to his utter shock and amazement, she ran across the clearing, into his arms again and reached up on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. Then she turned and ran and was gone. Truly gone.

He tried to continue bringing gifts, just in case. But they all set, unclaimed, on their boulder, in their clearing.

She was seeing suitors and was endlessly busy.

His oldest step-brother married, bringing a new person into the household and then two squalling babies in rapid succession.

His second oldest step-brother was courting a new lady every couple of months.

Peeta was very busy with managing the growing household, farming, and his normal duties. Eventually, he no longer visited the rock.

 _21 Years Old_

Three years after their last meeting, it was spring again. Princess Katniss would soon be twenty-one. She never found a suitable suitor. They all had a fatal flaw: none of them measured up to the sweet, kind, tender, hard working boy of the forest. With his simple cut, old worn clothes, bright blue eyes that danced with merriment as he related stories during their few lunch encounters, his strong arms, his gentle voice, and the dedication it took to secure the pearl. The black pearl resided in her pocket, kept always in secret, just like her friendship with the servant boy. He _loved_ her and she knew she _loved_ him in a way she loved no other man.

Her parents' patience was getting worn thin now. Three years and no lasting courtship and no royal wedding to plan. They had had enough and Katniss needed to choose or _so help them_ they would choose for her. Katniss had had enough of their pushing.

For the first time in three years Katniss rode her horse into the forest. She wasn't hunting, so she rode all the way to the clearing. And there on and around the boulder were a smattering of gifts not carried off by animals or absorbed back into nature. He had been there, but it had clearly been a long time since he had last been by.

She sat on the boulder. If she were free to choose she would choose the boy. But she only knew his first name, not where he lived, and he was a servant boy, and her parents would probably never approve. And she sat alone and wept. She wept for her boy, for her future, for herself. All cried out she collected her gifts and rode home.

Peeta had not been idle. While he rarely visited the rock, he continued to use the same method as before to collect coins to get another gift for Kat. This time it would be the opal ring. He gave surreptitious glances each market day and it was always there. He never knew if or when he could give it to her, but he couldn't get the idea out of his mind. He sketched her lovely features in the ash in the evening firelight, dreamt of her at night, and thought about her often throughout every day. How was she? Had she found a suitor? Was she already married? Could she already have children? Benjamin and his wife had kids pretty quickly. He imagined her babies would have a dark little shock of hair when they were born. His niece and nephew were bald as baby birds when they were born.

While his step-mother was foul and his step-brothers weren't very nice, the niece and nephew were actually quite cute and sweet and they enjoyed their Uncle Peeta, even though he was a servant. He tossed them high in the air and they squealed, his tickles elicited peals of laughter, and his little carven figurines earned him bright eyes and big smiles.

It took all of three years with the busy household for him to have the money, but he finally bought the opal ring and it sat in his pocket. Always near. Reminding him of his girl, his love, even if she was unattainable, he had this one last gift to give that was worthy of her.

A purposeful knock at the door interrupted Peeta from his duties and pulling it open revealed a royal messenger. "Please ensure this message is received by all in the household," the messenger stated and then he turned to leave. Stunned, Peeta shut the door and opened the correspondence. The contents made his jaw drop, his eyes shine, and his heart pound with a thud in his chest.

By Royal Decree

The Lord Chamberlain is commanded by

Their Majesties the King and Queen of Panem

to request the presence of every eligible young man in Panem to come to a Royal Ball

to be held in honor of her royal highness the Princess Katniss's 21st Birthday

at which Princess Katniss will select a suitor of her choosing

for marriage

The decree went on to name the date and time and indicate the ball would be held at the palace. Princess _Katniss_ had not found a suitor of her choosing. _Was Princess Katniss Kat from the woods? S_ he was turning 21. _Kat would be turning 21 soon too._ A ball. All eligible young men. _He was eligible, though his step-mother would argue otherwise._ Peeta sank against the wall and ran his hands through his hair. He had once imagined her to be the daughter of a noble's hunter, then the daughter of a noble, but this _whole time_ he had befriended a _princess._ Suddenly he thought of the opal ring, the pearl, the gifts, and his emotions warred in him. Part of him felt so stupid and foolish; what would a princess want with such things. But the other part felt the friendship was real and the gifts as treasured as she always said. He resolved to go to the ball. He delivered the correspondence to his step-mother who crowed over how his handsome middle step-brother, William, would surely win the princess's heart. Peeta resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His step-brother was indeed handsome, but he was vulgar, crude, and a hopeless flirt, with a new girl on his arm every other month. Princess Katniss would see through him. Other members of the household could attend, meaning his oldest step-brother, Benjamin and his wife, Mary would come and the children would stay home with the nursemaid. His step-mother would come. Peeta steeled himself to ask, "May I go too?"

"What?!" asked step-mother with clear shock and distain. "A servant going to a royal ball? How absurd!"

Peeta felt brave so he answered, "I was not born a servant, and this is my father's house. I am as eligible as William." He had avoided comparing himself with his step-brothers as that often meant a beating, but this time he must try, he must see the Princess again just in case he had a chance.

"Well, you have nothing to wear," stated step-mother.

"I could borrow..." he began.

"Certainly not!" she refused.

Peeta remembered his father's old clothes in the attic. He could use those. "If I could find something to wear, could I go?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

His step-mother smirked, figuring he'd never find something suitable to wear. "Sure Cinder, you finish all of your chores and find decent clothes that aren't filled with ash, stained with soot, or streaked with flour and you can go."

Peeta gave a small smile, controlling his response as nothing made Step-mother angrier than his happiness, "Thank you, Step-Mother." He gave a small bow and left the room.

In the attic, pulling his father's old suit from the trunk, his smile couldn't have been wider. The suit was a handsome blue that had once made his father's blue eyes look brilliant. Sure it was a little drab with age and out-dated, but it was good enough to go to the ball with.

Peeta stayed on his best behavior wanting to give no occasion for his step-mother to forbid him to go to the ball. At 21 years of age, his destiny should have been in his own hands, but alas, it was in the hands of the shrew his dad married when Peeta was only eight. For the two years his father was still alive, she had been harsh, but was mitigated by his father. His father died when he was only ten, and too young to come into his inheritance. He was entirely at the mercy of his step-mother, who proved that beyond being harsh and critical, she was cruel and vindictive. Upon turning 21 years old, he had demanded to see his father's will, so he could have his inheritance, but she had refused.

The day of the ball arrived, the family dressed and prepped and preened for the ball. Peeta completed his chores, saw to it that everyone else was ready, then ran to his attic room to prepare himself. He washed quickly with water from the basin in his room, then dressed, and combed his hair back, and stowed the opal ring. His heart beat in anticipation of giving it to Kat- _Princess Katniss._ He looked in the old broken mirror and thought he looked rather handsome. Then looked out the window to see that the carriage had been made ready, but the sight he saw was not a carriage in front of the house waiting for the family to depart, but a departing carriage; they had left him behind!

There was no other carriage, no other horse to take him to the ball. He'd never make it on foot, and even if he did, he'd be such a sweaty disheveled mess they'd never let him in. This was his chance, his _one chance_ , to really win the girl he had loved for nearly a decade. He slumped against the wall and slid to the floor and wept.

Then he remembered his "benefactor", the village drunk, Haymitch Abernathy. Perhaps he could help.

With haste, he left the house, ran for the village, finding Haymitch's house easily by memory and pounded on the door.

"Haymitch! Haymitch Abernathy! Open up!" Pound, pound, pound. "Haymitch, it's Peeta! Open the door!" He was frantic.

Haymitch stood on the threshold in strange finery for a man who normally wore the better side of common clothes and went about half-drunk all the time. Peeta was surprised to say the least.

"You're going to the ball?" he asked, momentarily forgetting his purpose.

"Aren't you?" asked Haymitch.

"I wanted to. I was going to. But my family left without me. I hoped you could help me. I didn't know you were going to the ball," said Peeta.

"Well, I'm just going for the drinks, boy, but I can take you," he said. "Are you going to wear _that_?" he asked.

Peeta's cheeked reddened with embarrassment. "It's all I have," he stated. While he was embarrassed of what others would think, he knew Kat... _Katniss_ wouldn't mind, she'd seen him in his worn servant's clothes and accepted him. She wouldn't judge him for wearing his father's old suit.

"Well, there's no time to change it now," Haymitch said, coming out of the door. He had apparently been poised to leave, even as Peeta showed up, he was just in the nick of time. They rode together to the ball in silence. Peeta silent for nerves and Haymitch silent because small-talk didn't suit him. Peeta checked his pocket several times to ensure the opal ring was there. An occasional glance to Haymitch revealed the man giving him a funny smirk. He had a twinkle in his eye that unnerved Peeta, like Haymitch was in on a secret. Peeta's eyes narrowed in confusion and he determined to look out the window for the rest of the ride.

Their carriage pulled in line with the numerous others arriving at the ball, though they were on the later side.

Haymitch encouraged Peeta to go on in ahead as he stopped to talk to an old friend outside of the palace.

Peeta, followed the crowd of people as they entered, watching closely what they did, so he could do the same and hopefully not make an ass of himself. His wealthy merchant father had tutored him and taught him good manners and poise, but those lessons ended with his death and Peeta had spent more than ten years as a servant. He was entirely out of his element here. But it was all for her and to take what slim chance he had to maybe win her.

Finally, he entered the palace. The King and Queen stood by the door, greeting and welcoming guests. Princess Katniss and her sister the Lady Primrose were already in the ball room dancing and mingling with guests. _"Well, here goes nothing,"_ thought Peeta.

In the ballroom, the crowd was thick, the air was warm, and candles glowed everywhere lending a soft golden yellow light. He circuited the outer edge of the room to look for Katniss discreetly. He hoped if he caught her eye, they could meet privately and he could show her the ring and ask her to choose him.

But he was shortly deterred from his quest as a familiar painting caught his eye. It was of a meadow at sunset. You could almost hear the buzz of insects, the chirp of sleepy birds, and feel the warm breeze just looking at it. It was unmistakably _his_ painting. One that Haymitch Abernathy sold for him. Then a few feet down was another painting, of a forest clearing and boulder with a bright bouquet of flowers waiting for a lover to appear, _also his_ , and another of a dandelion, and another that was a close-up of the meadow flowers, and one of a katniss flower from the pond he liked to cool his feet in, he hadn't known at the time that Kat was Katniss, but now it would hold significance. Every painting he had ever painted hung in the hall. His eyes were turned away from the crowd as he went around and now curiosity stirred in him and he searched out Haymitch. It wasn't hard, he was predictably by the punch bowl, spiking his own drink from a flask he kept in his coat.

"Haymitch, who did you sell all my paintings to?" Peeta queried, his eyes bright and intense, he was not going to take a bullshit answer.

Haymitch, content and feeling easy with the punch, answered, "Myself."

"What?" Peeta rasped.

"Me. Myself. I bought every single one. My niece loved the first one so much, that I just bought them all and brought them here."

Every painting. Every single painting. All those coins. Haymitch himself. "Your _niece_?" Peeta's mind was reeling at the revelation and his heart was pounding.

"My niece, Princess Katniss." Haymitch smirked at the boy, and winked. Peeta had told Haymitch about Kat, the girl he was buying the pearl and later the opal ring for. Had he guessed Peeta was in love with Princess Katniss? Had he known all along?

Peeta's jaw dropped. All this time. All this time, the paintings were here, and she loved them, and Haymitch, the village drunk was actually a Duke and he, Peeta, had asked him to help sell off the paintings like he was talking to some disinherited old man. _Oh God, he was such an ass_. He really knew how to choose them.

"I don't think you were here to visit your paintings though were you?" asked Haymitch redirecting the poor confused boy. It was quite a lot for him to take in all at once.

He gulped, "No, I came here...for _her_." But now amongst the wealthy nobles and dukes and duchesses he felt inadequate. The confidence he felt in front of the old broken mirror in his room and that led him to knock at Haymitch's door fled him. He stumbled outside needed some air and to process everything. Oh, how his head was spinning. He found a marble bench in the garden and sat down.

The cool air of the spring evening cooled his hot cheeks and the wind tussled his blonde curls and he held the ring forlornly in his deft fingers twirling it and watching the iridescence in the growing light of the moon. Why was he here? What could he offer a princess? He was nothing, just a servant after all. He was preparing to take a very long walk home or at least find a place to hide out until Haymitch was ready to leave when, "Peeta?" whispered someone from behind.

He startled because he hadn't heard anyone come up behind him. He spun around, "Kat!" he exclaimed. As melancholy as his thoughts had been, the sight of her brought a joy to his heart that shone radiantly in his face. Then he remembered the ring and hid his hands behind his back.

"I never thought you'd be here," Katniss began, "I thought you were a servant." Her countenance reflected surprise, confusion, and happiness to see her old friend.

"I was, I mean, I am, but I wasn't born one." Peeta stumbled over his words, took a deep breath and started again, "I was not born a servant, but was made one by my step-mother after my father died." He bowed his head as feelings of worthlessness flooded him.

But, like at their last meeting, this could be his last chance, so he brought his hands back out in front of him, and held forth the opal ring. Then thinking of it, he knelt down on one knee, and said, there in the garden, by the marble bench and fountain, under the moonlight, "Kat, Princess Katniss, You have been my friend and I...have loved you...for so long. And I know I don't have much to offer you, except for myself. I would be a good husband to you, all of my days. Could you...would you choose me?" Peeta face was bright red and his blue eyes searching as he waited for her answer.

But it never came.

Katniss, stunned first by his very presence, by his revelation, by the ring, was silent. Her mind swirled with questions, but her throat constricted and no words could get out.

Peeta first took her silence for surprise, he continued waiting ring held out, but her continued silence gave him pause. Perhaps, all this time, she had viewed him as only a _friend_ and was now trying to figure out how to say "no" without hurting his feelings.

"Kat," he reverted to the name she had given him, "please, say something," he said hoarsely, his heart was in his throat.

Her feet were like lead and she couldn't move and her voice stuck in her throat, she couldn't speak.

The silence hung thickly in the air, and Peeta's fears grew. He should have known a princess would never want a servant-boy. He decided he would save her the embarrassment of having to say 'no'. His arms dropped to his sides as he stood. "I'm sorry, Princess," he said, "I...I meant no offence. It was presumptive of me. Thank you for your time." He bowed, backed away, then stumbled over the bench and fell on his ass making his humiliation complete. In the process he dropped the ring. As if things couldn't get any worse. He jumped up and bowed again, then said quickly, "Goodbye Katniss." With that, he turned and ran.

* * *

Katniss's mother and father noticing her prolonged absence in the ballroom sought for her in the garden where they knew she'd be. And sure enough, she sat, beautiful, solitary, and melancholy on the marble bench by the fountain swathed in moonlight.

"What is it child?" queried the King.

She looked up to him with pitiful eyes. Then looked down at the ring. "He gave me the moon," she said in awe, the opal ring shining like a drop of moonlight in her fingers as she twirled it and contemplated it.

The King sat on her right and the Queen to her left. She curled into her father's side, seeking his warmth, and her mother rubbed her back giving her comfort.

"He asked me to choose him," Katniss continued, "but I was so shocked I couldn't speak, I couldn't move..."

"Well, you never were good at saying something," said her mother, understanding in her gentle voice.

"And now he's...he's...gone!" Katniss finished with a sob. Her boy, her friend, the only one she had ever chosen, and when he needed her to tell him, she couldn't, and she didn't know where he was or how to find him.

"Who is this man who has stolen my daughter's heart and has given her the moon, besides?" asked the King with a sad smile. To know his daughter loved anyone was a relief, but the man was a mystery. She had never shared with him or the Queen that she loved anybody.

Katniss told the whole long story of meeting Peeta in the woods when they were twelve, of killing the boar. Her father nodded remembering. She told of the gifts, of their few special shared lunches, the box of treasures, the pearl, and finally the ring. She was afraid she had lost him forever.

As all of this was going on, Haymitch, who was enjoying the punch immensely, but who was not terribly drunk had been waiting with a twinkle in his eye for an announcement that didn't come. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him. The boy had had long enough to make his move. Haymitch walked the perimeter of the room and saw neither Peeta nor Princess Katniss. He smirked, maybe he was doing more than proposing. However, the time continued to pass and Haymitch was concerned, the boy was missing, Katniss had been absent for a while, and now the King and Queen were not in attendance. He decided to search them out. Perhaps the boy needed someone to speak for him. He had no kin to do it for him. He found everyone in the garden, but the scene before him was not that of a boy and girl in love, but one of sorrow, a sobbing girl between her mother and father. _If that boy hurt her..._

However, he also knew Katniss was rash and impulsive, it could be the other way around. Though she clearly was sorrowful for whatever happened. He approached the melancholy trio and cleared his throat. The King turned and gave a small smile. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Haymitch asked.

The King looked to the Queen who turned to her brother, "It seems our Katniss has chosen a suitor, but he has run off, and she doesn't know where to find him."

"Peeta?" questioned Haymitch.

At his name, Katniss head shot up, "You know him?" she asked breathlessly.

* * *

Peeta ran through the gardens, over hills, and right up to the edge of the forest where he finally stopped to breathe. He was bent at the waist. His chest heaved with his desperate need for air and the choked sobs of his broken heart.

He followed the treeline to the road. He contemplated going the other way and just running away. He decided to just return home. It took him a couple hours to get home, alternating walking and jogging.

When he finally made it back, he climbed up to his attic room, removed his father's suit, carefully laid it across the back of a chair, and exhausted with his long journey and his heartbreak, he fell into a deep sleep. He never even heard his family return.

The following morning, the family had a late breakfast. Things were quiet and everyone's moods were sullen, which suited Peeta as he was still very sorrowful for how the night before had gone and was in no mood to deal with anyone beyond the basics. He collected eggs, slopped the pigs, milked the goats and the one cow (a recent addition to the farm). Farm yard chores done, he moved out to the field, grateful to be alone. In early May, we was still making final preparations in his garden and sowing the fields. He had a satchel on his side filled with seed that he scattered in measured even throws, a movement perfected over the years.

He was interrupted by a shrill call, "Cinder! Cinder!"

He made his way back to the house to see what his step-mother wanted. She met him in the yard.

"Someone's here to see you."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get cleaned up and be right there."

"You'll do nothing of the sort. I want them to see you as you are."

"Uh, yes ma'am."

Them. _Who is "them"?_

To see you. _They want to see me?_

As you are. _As a servant, dirty, common. Oh my God! Is she selling me or trading me? I should have run away._

Peeta's thoughts grew darker and more desperate as they neared the house. His heart pounded in fear of who awaited him and for what purpose.

Upon entering the house, he passed through the kitchen, the dining room, down a short hallway and presently found himself in the parlor, in the company of royalty.

His eyes lit immediately on the King and Queen and he instinctively bowed deeply. "Your Majesties." What could they be here for? Then his eyes fell upon Haymitch. Knowing now he was a Duke, he bowed again. "Duke." He did not know what to do with himself so he just stood there feeling dumb. Was this about last night? He waited for the King or Queen to address him.

"Good afternoon, Peeta Mellark," said the King, "Haymitch has told us so much about you, as well as our daughter Katniss."

Peeta's cheeked reddened in shame. So they knew.

"I am sorry sir, ma'am, for being so forward. I meant no offence. I am willing to accept whatever punishment you see fit," Peeta said. He had felt humiliated last night. At least then he was wearing a handsome suit. Here, before royalty, in his filthy clothes he felt as low as the dirt on his shoes. He looked down at the floor in his shame unable to look at any one of them.

"Peeta?" came a whisper from his right, he hadn't looked to that side of the room. There sat Princess Katniss.

"Your Highness," he replied automatically. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling and looked down again. He wished they'd just get whatever it was over with.

He heard a rustle of fabric and shortly Katniss's dress was in his view, brushing his shoes. He backed away instinctively. "My shoes are muddy, Your Highness."

"Don't care." She reached for his hands.

He pulled back. "They're dirty, ma'am," his voice cracked.

Katniss who struggled to give an answer last night was emboldened by the support of her mother and father and by Haymitch's testimony of her boy, stepped forward more surely and grasped Peeta's hands firmly in her own.

"Peeta. I did not give you my answer last night."

"You did, Your Highness. It's okay," Peeta said.

"No, I didn't," she took a deep breath, "Peeta, I, too, have loved you for a long time. You have been a true friend to me. There is not a man in the world that I love as I love you. It is because of you no suitor could last."

Peeta's knees felt weak at her confession. _Am I dreaming?_

"Peeta, I choose you, if you will still have me," Katniss finished.

Peeta's face first reflected shock at her confession, then true jubilation as he processed what she said. He beamed his beautiful smile and said, breathlessly, "Yes! Oh, Yes!" and wrapped his arms around his Kat. His eyes filled with more tears, but these were tears of joy.

Haymitch stood, handing something to Katniss, who in turn handed it to Peeta. It was the ring. Peeta, understanding her meaning, took her small olive hand in his larger pale one and slid the ring on her fourth finger. Then brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. Then he raised his hand to cup Katniss's cheek and he lent down touching his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

The King cleared his throat and the young couple sprung apart. "Peeta, your father Michael Mellark, while not of the noble class, was a wealthy merchant. He and Duke Haymitch Abernathy served in the war together when they were young men and your father saved the Duke's life. After the war Haymitch came home and your father settled here, found a wife, and had you. They lost touch, but when Haymitch tired of court and moved to this village, he sought for your father, but found that he had already passed away. He also found that Michael Mellark had a son Peeta, whom his widow had made a servant in his household. Haymitch made a vow to himself that if there was any chance he could help you, he would. So he kept close and made sure you knew him and that you'd be able to trust him if the time ever came. He bought your paintings, brought you to the ball, and spoke for you to the Queen and I. I could not have wished for a better suitor for my daughter and I heartily give my blessing to you both." The King grinned from ear to ear. He was thoroughly pleased with how things had all worked out.

By this point his step-mother was thoroughly shamed. She attempted to leave the room but was called back.

"You have behaved in a most atrocious manner ma'am," said the King, "You have turned this young man into a servant in his own household, denied him his inheritance, and dishonored the memory of his father. You are forthwith stripped of all titles and denied any acceptance to court for as long as you live." This was merciful, considering the King's ire at all she had done. She would continue to run the farm, but from a much lower social status than she had once enjoyed.

"Peeta, we are prepared to move you to your own chambers in the palace today, if you are ready," the King said to his soon-to-be son-in-law.

Peeta accepted his offer gratefully.

The wedding was performed within the month; there was no reason to delay. It was beautiful. The bride and groom were splendidly in love and anyone with eyes could see it. After the ceremony and extravagant feast, Peeta and Katniss retired to their chambers and continued their own celebration for most of the night.

Peeta never saw his step-mother again. However, he did allow his brothers to visit so he could dote on his nieces and nephews.

He and Katniss eventually had babies of their own, little princes and princesses, beautiful mixes of themselves.

Sadly, as must happen, the King and Queen passed, and Katniss and Peeta became King and Queen in their stead. They made a wonderful King and Queen. They were _good_ and their people loved them for it.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed!

Songs:

Brave Soundtrack: "Touch the Sky" by Julie Fowlis

How to Train Your Dragon- "Forbidden Friendship"

X Ambassadors- "Renegades"

Christina Perry- "1000 Years"

Mumford and Sons- "Not With Haste"


End file.
